


A Study in Love

by SKRena



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Betrayal, Heartbreak, M/M, Mycroft likes to drink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKRena/pseuds/SKRena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years before Sherlock makes his name with the case "A Study in Pink", Mycroft Holmes meets the man known as Jim Moriarty. A dangerous game is woven from the words exchanged and they begin their dance around each other.</p><p>In a world where Mycroft wages war against the one and only 'Consulting Criminal', will there ever be a thing known as happiness or is Mycroft doomed to leave his heart in the hands of a psychopath whose only goal seems to be to bring the British government to its knees metaphorically and literally?</p><p>(Starts ten years before ASiP, but the newest chapters take place during the events of Sherlock.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunken Stumbling

Mycroft was a little less cautious in his younger days. Sherlock assigned the blame to their father when he felt the need to make quick pot shots. Their father was always a pusher. He pushed his kids are hard as he could. Mycroft flew through school without a stop. That's what he figured caused his breakdown into his late twenties. The said breakdown was leading him down a street drunkenly with expensive whiskey on his breath.

It wasn't his first choice in drinks, but he supposed that it would do. At least that's what went through his mind when he plucked it from his liquor cabinet earlier that day.

Was it even the same day anymore? He really didn't know. It could be early the next day he supposed, but that was a little too much thinking.

"Do you need help?" someone asked Mycroft and he creased his eyebrows together. He didn't really want to put effort into a conversation at that moment of time.

"Go away," he mumbled to the person without even glancing up.

"I was just offering, but it's probably best that you turn me down. I was planning on stealing money from your wallet after convincing you to have sex with me," the stranger replied and Mycroft suddenly felt a little more sober.

"And what makes you think that I have money for you to steal? I'm sitting on a curb with a bottle of whisky in my hand. I hardly think that spells out money," Mycroft said and sighed a little.

"The suit that you're wearing has been custom made, which had to have cost you quite a bit," the stranger said in a smug tone. "Plus, that watch you're wearing is worth stealing alone. I was planning on taking it with whatever was in your wallet, but now that I have talked to you I can tell that you're not stupid so you probably only put a small amount of money in your wallet so you wouldn't spend it."

"I have enough for cab fair in my wallet," Mycroft replied. "How did you think that you were going to sleep with me?" he asked curiously.

"I can tell by my examination that you're homosexual," the stranger replied and Mycroft finally looked up at the person that had struck up such a strange conversation with him.

Mycroft never believed that love at first sight existed and even after seeing this... this... creature in front of him, he still didn't believe it, but the racing of his heart and the lump in his throat said otherwise. His pupils got bigger and his heart beat accelerated. He was indeed attracted to this man in front of him. His dark eyes and features were exactly what Mycroft craved and exactly what he was afraid of.

"Or," the stranger said with a long drawn out vowel. "If you if were asking exactly how I would do it I can elaborate for you." He dropped down low to Mycroft's level and looked him straight in the eyes. "I would have started by tying your hands to the bedpost to a bed in a hotel about a block from here. Next, I would have made sure to get you hot and bothered. Probably by nibbling on your left ear and neck. You would have felt my teeth on every centimeter of the left side of your head. By then you would have been getting considerably uncomfortable considering the fact that you're extremely sensitive. My hands would instinctively reach down to play with you, but they wouldn't take your pants off. No, it would be too soon for that. You would need to be tortured a little more."

"Enough!" Mycroft shouted with growing embarrassment. He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little aroused.

"What?" the stranger asked with a manical grin. He reached out and placed his hand between Mycroft's legs and massaged it a little. "You didn't even let me get to the best part," he said in a low tone and Mycroft had to bite his lower lip to keep from making a noise. He leaned forward so his mouth was right next to Mycroft's left ear. "The penetration." The stranger's teeth grazed Mycroft's ear a little and he yelped.

Mycroft grumpily pushed the stranger's hand away. "I'm sorry but I know how sex works. You don't need to explain."

"You do?" the stranger asked with mock disbelief. "You say that but you have never experienced it yourself." Mycroft turned an unbelievable shade of red. "What do you say? Want to lose your virginity to a stranger?"

If Mycroft were sober, he would have flat out refused the offer, but the fact of the matter was that he wasn't sober. Plus, his pants were slightly tight.

"I missed the opportunity in college," Mycroft mumbled and reached out his hand. "The name is Mycroft."

"Funny name," the stranger replied. "I'm Jim." He grabbed Mycroft's hand and helped him up. "I hope you don't have to work tomorrow."

Mycroft looked at Jim through a drunken haze. "Why?"

Jim smiled deviously at the other. "Because I'm not going to let you sleep."


	2. Hangovers and Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Jim dance around with words.

Mycroft woke up the next morning with the worst headache he had ever experienced and he didn't even remember what had transpired last night. To make things worse, when he tried to think, nothing came to mind. The cloud in his mind was what he loved and hated about his drinking habit. He sometimes liked lowering his intelligence for short periods of time, but the fact that he depended on a drug made him feel sick.  
  
Mycroft sighed and sat up or at least that's what he wanted to do. Unfortunately for him, his hands were bound above his head, which prevented him from doing anything.  
  
"Awake already?" a voice asked and Mycroft refrained from allowing shock to show on his face. He also managed to hide the shiver that went down his spine from hearing the man’s voice. It was like heaven.  
  
"May I ask why my hands are bound?" he asked the person in an annoyed tone. Mycroft wasn’t actually annoyed, but he wanted the person to think he was. 'It's a man," Mycroft said to himself. 'What did I do last night?'  
  
"Don't ask me," the man drawled. "You're the one that asked me to tie them up."  
  
‘I am never drinking whisky again in that quantity,’ Mycroft decided after a moment. He would just have to suffer being more intelligent than everyone around him. "Can you tell me where I am?"  
  
"A hotel," Jim replied and Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course you knew that already. Here are three facts for you. You are in a hotel, tied to a bed, and with a stranger. I think any other facts are pretty insignificant to these three."  
  
"While any other facts may seem insignificant to you, I would still like to know them. I like to know everything," Mycroft said dryly as he felt a weight shift next to him. Mycroft allowed the burning curiosity to get the better of him and looked over at the man beside him.  
  
Mycroft didn’t know how to comprehend the man that sat next to him. His eyes were dark; so very dark and they seemed to look right into his soul (if he had one). Just thinking about the why him and this man were in the same room made him want to crumble. ‘Attraction is not an advantage,’ Mycroft scolded himself, but his thoughts didn’t hold nearly as much harshness as he would have liked.

“My, you are an interesting little thing,” Jim said with amusement lacing his voice as he devoured the older man with his eyes.

“I don’t think you have to right to call me ‘little thing’,” Mycroft said sourly. “You are significantly smaller than me and younger too.” 

“I’m not smaller in every way,” Jim said playfully and Mycroft turned a delicious shade of red. “The name is Jim in case you have forgotten.”

“I can’t remember a single thing about last night.”

“That’s a shame,” Jim replied and untied his hands. “I took your virginity and you don’t even get to remember it. The sex was quite good too.” Mycroft rubbed his wrists before gently massaging his temples in a futile attempt to lessen the pain. “Here,” Jim said and handed Mycroft a glass of water along with two pills. Mycroft looked suspiciously at the pills. “Don’t trust me?” he asked in an offended tone. “I wouldn’t drug you now when I could have easily done anything to you while you were asleep.”

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and took the pills without ever breaking eye contact. “Thank you,” he said after he took a couple gulps of water.

“That was poison,” Jim said with a serious face.

“No it wasn’t,” Mycroft said calmly. “It was a common form of hangover medicine that you bought literally a block from here.” His ability to think was slowly coming back. He wasn’t functioning at a high capacity, but he was thinking at a higher level than most everyone he knew; except for maybe Sherlock.

Jim smiled proudly at Mycroft. “Good job! It’s a little weird that you knew that, but I’m not going to question it.” He rose from the bed and stretched out his muscles. Mycroft couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to the fully naked body beside the bed. “Do you like the view?” Jim asked with a yawn.

“It’s fairly nice,” Mycroft said, “a little underweight.”

“My view is pretty nice,” Jim said and winked at Mycroft. “I don’t know about you, but I have to get going.” Jim started to put on his clothes. He slipped on his pants and withdrew his cell phone. “Here,” he said and tossed Mycroft his phone. “Enter your number.”

“Why should I?” Mycroft asked.

“Well, I for one would like to experience your body again,” Jim said in a low tone. “Plus, you seem like you would want a fuck that is discreet and I am willing.”

“I have one or two questions,” Mycroft said as he considered the offer that was actually more like a demand.

“I think we both know you have more than that,” Jim replied as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Go ahead and ask away.”

“How old are you?”

“That’s your first question?” Jim asked with disbelief. “Twenty-one.” He looked at Mycroft and frowned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Please tell me that you are at least independent of your parents,” Mycroft said in a pleading tone.

“Nope,” Jim replied. “I was living independently, but my mother fell sick so I recently had to move back home.”

“Do you work?”

“I am currently not working and focusing most of my attention on my mother. My father works during the daytime to pay the bills,” Jim explained.

“Is he abusive?” Mycroft asked curiously.

Jim creased his eyebrows. “Why would you think that?”

“You have bruises on your back and arms,” Mycroft explained.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Yes, he does occasionally hit me, but these are from falling down. I tripped on my mother’s oxygen tubes.”

Mycroft felt there was more to the story but didn’t push it. “There, I entered my phone number.” He tossed to phone back to Jim who smiled like he had won the lottery. 

“I will be contacting you sometime this week,” Jim said. “Also, the hotel room is already paid for so you can check out any time within the next three hours,” and with that, Jim exited the room.

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” Mycroft asked himself before breathing a sigh of relief. The hangover medicine was working.


	3. Texting and Tea

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks of constant texting; at least when he had the time. Mycroft did practically run the British Government, which is the excuse he would like to use when he fails to reply to a text, but he knew that he couldn't.

For the first time in Mycroft's life, he absolutely wished that he had decided to go with a job that was below his standards. If he was a minor part of the British government, he could have a job where he had time off and he would be able date normally. If was the keyword. If was something he shouldn't even be entertaining. Mycroft couldn't even imagine what it would be like if he wasn't working for the government. He was pretty positive that it would collapse. Especially with the new threat arising in the form of someone named Moriarty.

Moriarty. He was proving to be a real pain in Mycroft's arse. It had been about a week since the criminal had risen out of nowhere and he hadn't left since. Normally, Mycroft would have been able to swat away just one bug, but this one in particular had numerous friends in very high places on the illegal hierarchy. To add to this, there were no pictures of Moriarty. No matter how hard he dug, there was nothing. It frustrated Mycroft to no end.

The end of the day came and Mycroft eventually found himself at the door to his house. Well, one of his houses. He had a different one on the other end of town, but that was strictly for him. No one was allowed to enter it; not even mum.

"I'm back," Mycroft said as he entered the parlor and he wanted to punch himself. 'I have become so... domestic,' he thought to himself with a grimace.

"I thought you would never get back," Jim replied and walking into the room. Mycroft's eyes widened comically at the sight before him. "You don't like what I'm wearing?" Jim asked in a hurt tone.

Mycroft managed to gather his wits and tear his eyes from where they had wandered. "I think what you're wearing or what you're not wearing is absolutely stunning."

"Yay! I knew you'd like it," Jim said and hugged Mycroft full on and completely naked. "It saves a lot of time. There's only one of us to undress now."

Mycroft's face was tinted red and it was practically glowing red when Jim dropped to his knees and began undoing his pants. He pulled Mycroft out of his pants and quickly took him into his mouth.

"Oh god," Mycroft said in shock.

Jim played with him a while and then pulled away. "We're going to have a lot of fun."

~~~

Three weeks was a lot of time spent on a relationship, or so Mycroft thought. So when the six month mark rolled around, he didn't know what to do.

Mycroft hadn't been in a relationship with anyone before. While technically neither Jim or Mycroft had declared that they were dating, it was pretty obvious they were. They appeared in public together and went to places normal people would go to for dates. The most damning fact was that Jim almost always stayed over from Thursday to Sunday.

For being together for six months, they didn't know a lot about each other, but it didn't bother Mycroft. When he learned more about Jim, his heart would beat faster and it killed him to think about what that could mean.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said and snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," Mycroft mumbled. "I got lost in my thoughts there."

"Clearly," Sherlock said with no humour in his voice. "Are you going to answer me?"

"What did you ask?" Mycroft replied. He had honestly caught nothing Sherlock had said.

"I asked who you were dating?"

Mycroft nearly spit his tea everywhere. "I don't know what you mean," he said childishly.

"Mycroft, I know you've been seeing someone. Male I'm guessing by the way you reacted. If they were female you wouldn't have responded like that." Mycroft sighed. "So who is it?"

"No one that you know," Mycroft said defensively.

"Fine then. How long have you two been together?"

Mycroft didn't think that it hurt to tell Sherlock. "Six months," he replied quietly.

Sherlock dropped his cup on his lap. He realized this and quickly picked it up. "Good thing it was empty." He smiled at his elder brother. "I wasn't expecting six months. I was going to say two."

"You're slipping," Mycroft said and Sherlock stuck out his lip in a pout.

"I'm only 24 unlike you," Sherlock said in a smug tone. "You're almost 32. It's good you finally found someone."

"They're younger than you," Mycroft said quietly to watch Sherlock react.

"You're joking," Sherlock said. "You are not joking. Oh my god." Sherlock poured himself more tea and took a sip. "How old?"

Mycroft looked guiltily at his brother. "He turned twenty-two two weeks ago."

"You are a scandal dear brother," Sherlock said with a huge smile in his voice. "Have you told mum?"

"I was going to have him come to Christmas dinner," Mycroft said. It was a huge step in their relationship, but Mycroft thought that it was the right time.

"I can't wait to meet him," Sherlock said with a devious smile.

"Oh yes," Mycroft replied and took a sip of his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that was a short chapter sorry!!!


	4. Stumbling and Secrets

Mycroft came home from a particularly stressful day at work. Moriarty had made another move and it had managed to fuck up the entire government for a day. He ended up running from various buildings to various buildings. It ended with a bunch of meetings and arguing. A lot of arguing.

The one thing that had gotten Mycroft through the day was the fact that it was Christmas. Jim told Mycroft that he had something special planned for them, and then Mycroft planned to introduce Jim to his mother.

Mycroft walked into the parlor of his house and his eyes immediately searched for Jim. When he was nowhere in sight, Mycroft began to grow anxious.

"Jim?" Mycroft called out.

"I'm in here," Jim replied from the bedroom upstairs and Mycroft quickly made his way up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft asked as he neared the bedroom.

"Just finishing up your present," Jim said and there was a smile in his voice.

Mycroft was excited at he came to the closed door. "May I come in or will it ruin the surprise?"

"It's fine," Jim replied. "Come in."

Mycroft smiled and looked down at the bag in his hands, which contained Jim's present. It wasn't anything incredibly special, but Mycroft desperately wanted Jim to like it. Sentiment was going to be the death of him, but he couldn't find it within himself to care at the moment.

Mycroft opened the door slowly and found Jim sitting in a chair by a table in the corner of the room. He wore casual clothes, but Mycroft decided that he still looked stunning.

"Are you ready for your present?" Jim asked and gave Mycroft his most charming smile.

"Sure," Mycroft said and took a seat opposite his lover. "You sure you want to open mine after I open yours?"

"Positive," Jim said and smiled at Mycroft who was blinded by the illusion of a man. "Here," he said and handed Mycroft a small parcel.

"Thank you," Mycroft said and took the parcel from Jim. He slowly unwrapped it with a hidden smile. It had taken so many years but Mycroft finally felt he met someone he could relate too. He did have one or two relationships but they never made it to Christmas or they never lasted to the actual exchanging of presents.

Mycroft opened the small box and found something that seemed like a remote starter for a car, but it wasn't. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Jim questioningly. Mycroft pressed the button out of our curiosity and waited for something to happen.

"You just blew up a school," Jim said gleefully and smiled like a maniac.

Mycroft about choked. "No. What does it really do?"

"I'm serious. You really just blew up a school." Jim looked him straight in the eye and dropped the act that he had used for the last six months. "Come on Mycroft, you should be smarter than this. You're not really that ignorant that you think someone would take and actual interest in you?"

Mycroft's mouth went dry and he wasn't positive that he was actually capable of speech. "Who are you?" he asked with a growl.

"Why don't I introduce myself?" Jim asked and looked at Mycroft with excitement. "The name is Jim Moriarty."

Everything Mycroft knew about the universe shattered at that moment. Over the past six months, everything he felt was suddenly gone and in its place was a gaping hole. It was something he'd never felt or had never been without feeling. At that moment, Mycroft knew the true desire people had to feel (or not to feel).

"Don't worry," Jim shushed him. "I also have enough evidence to back up the fact that you are deeply involved in a crime ring that is aiming to bring down the British Governent, which means you're in a bad position."

Mycroft managed to put on his carefully constructed mask. He had hoped that he would never need to use it, but his hopes had been crushed.

Mycroft looked at Moriarty with disdain and the air of the room changed immediately. Instead of two lovers meeting in a room, it was now two kings and they were discussing war.

"Do you really think that you'll win if you decide to wage a war against me?" Mycroft asked with genuine curiosity.

"You already lost," Moriarty said quietly. "I now have all the documents and footage I need to blackmail you."

Mycroft's smile was small. "And what do you think you can use this to do?"

"See, I have a nice setup," Moriarty started, "and it would be a shame if I got bored with it." He folded his hands in his lap and stared intently at the man across the table. "I want you to dance for me, Mycroft. When I get bored, I want my own little puppet to play with."

"You can try to play with me," Mycroft said in a cold tone. "I think that you'll find the results to be less pleasing than when they were... well... pleasing."

Moriarty laughed hysterically for a minute before stopping his laughter completely. "We shall see about that." His eyes wandered to the bag beside Mycroft. "Is it my turn to open a present? I don't think it's fair you get all the fun of blowing up a school."

Mycroft glanced down at the bag and it seemed impossibly far away. He would have thought it out of reach, but nothing was out of reach for him.

"Sure," Mycroft said and reached into the bag to withdraw the present. "I shall make sure to tell you what it is when I join you in hell," Mycroft hissed and threw it into the fireplace behind him.

Moriarty's face lit up with surprise, but it quickly died down. "That wasn't very nice of you. It's not like the contents matter that much; I already know what it contained."

"Oh, and what's that?" Mycroft asked curiously.

"The remnants of broken hopes," Jim whispered to Mycroft before rising. "It has been fun but I must go."

Mycroft watched slowly as the figure of the man he thought he knew disappeared into the doorframe. He had enough time to let out a breath that he didn't know that he'd been holding in before he got a text.

"Also, if you thought today was bad, wait until New Years," Moriarty had texted him. "Best regards, Jim Moriarty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have kept it all one chapter I suppose but that's all in the past.


	5. Explainations

As it turned out, the school that Mycroft had accidentally blown up had been located in America. While that didn't take place in his country, it still did complication worldwide interactions. The President of the United States was busier than a bee and that had slowed down everything for the British Government along with almost every government that dealt with the US on a daily basis.

Mycroft had called a meeting early December 27th for a select few people, including himself. He had figured that it would be better to get this 'Moriarty' thing sorted out before it became a big deal. There was really only two options: Mycroft could not tell everyone who Moriarty was and risk exposure or he could confess and hopefully not lose his job.

Mycroft settled into his leather chair at the end of a long table. The meeting was commencing in about one minute and Mycroft was inevitably nervous. This meeting would decide the rest of his career. If he failed at explaining himself, then he would probably die or be thrown away in a jail to be forgotten. Mycroft was banking on the fact that the British Government would be shit out of luck without Mycroft's help.

Mycroft's highest ranking superior entered the room with a particularly grumpy expression on their face, which wasn't a good sign. A few others followed behind him in suit, exactly on time, but these guys, plus one lady, didn't look quite as grumpy as his superior.

"Mycroft," his superior, Alexander, said gruffly as he took a seat. The said man was about six foot five inches tall, which towered slightly over Mycroft's own frame of six foot one inch. The other man also had raven coloured hair that cascaded down to his shoulder in elegant locks, which were only rivaled by the man's emerald green eyes.

"Alexander," Mycroft replied in a pleasant tone. He knew that Alexander wasn't actually grumpy. The man always came off that way, but he was actually pretty nice when he wasn't around a lot of people.

"Why don't we get right down the business," he said and the other's nodded. "Why did you call us to this meeting?"

"Well," Mycroft started, "we all know the threat that calls himself Moriarty has arisen lately. I know who he is."

There was some unprofessional whispering, which was silenced by Alexander's hand. "Explain yourself."

"About six months ago, I acquired a new friend, which as of Christmas, I learned goes by the name Moriarty while at work," Mycroft explained shortly. "At the time, I did not know who he was and when he revealed himself to me, I immediately cut off all interactions with him."

Alexander continued to frown, but Mycroft noticed a few hardly visible signs that Alexander had relaxed. "Leave," he ordered his underlings away. At first they were shocked but they quickly regained themselves and scurried out of the room.

"Felt the need to talk alone?" Mycroft questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Alexander replied in a tone devoid of humor. “Mycroft, you really need to be careful who you sleep with.”

"That obvious?” Mycroft questioned. Alexander smiled crookedly and nodded. “Think anyone else noticed?”

"No. They're too stupid.” Mycroft huffed out a laugh at the other’s words. “Why don't you start over and tell me everything that happened?”

Mycroft nodded and proceeded to recite his entire history with Jim, but he left out a couple of the more intimate details. It was embarrassing but Mycroft needed to tell someone and Alexander was the closest thing he had to a friend.

When Mycroft finished, they just stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Alexander sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm not going to comment. You know what you did wrong and I don't need to mother you. I'll make sure that your position within our ranks doesn't become jeopardized. It's probably good that you came to me quickly. Things could have easily gotten out of hand in the future.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said and let out a sigh of relief.

Alexander stood suddenly and walked to the door. He turned around and gazed down at Mycroft with his expressionless face. “Are you coming?” He finally asked.

“What do you mean?” Mycroft asked in a startled voice.

“Whiskey is no good,” Alexander replied. “I plan on introducing you to some real drinks.” He finally let emotion fall upon his face and grinned goofily at the other man.

“Let me grab my coat.”

* * *

 “Mycroft, you cannot hold your liquor,” Alexander mumbled as he reached out and caught the stumbling man. “Let's get you into your house.” Alexander fumbled for the door handle, slightly tipsy himself, but still managed to get the door open. “You got a nice place,” he commented as he hauled the other man into the house. “Where's your room?” Mycroft mumbled a reply the

Alexander couldn't make out. “Alright, first door we open then.” They stumbled to the first door, which proved to be a guest bedroom much to Alexander’s relief.

“Put me on the bed,” Mycroft mumbled with slurred words. Alexander nodded to himself and just threw Mycroft down on the bed. The bigger man let out a sigh of relief, which was cut short by the smaller man’s barely audible sob.

“Mycroft?” Alexander asked in shock. “Are you crying?” Another sob escaped Mycroft’s lips and the man turned harshly over onto his stomach. Alexander paused, unsure of how to help his ‘friend’. “Are you okay?” The only response he got a something akin to a wail. Alexander was about to pat his friend awkwardly on the head when he heard a noise down the hall. “Mycroft,” he said with a pause, “I'll be right back.”

Alexander walked down the hallway quietly and stealthily. To his surprise, he ran into an incredibly small man, who looked shocked and frightened at the sudden collision.

“Who are you?” Alexander asked defensively.

“I'm Mycroft’s house keeper. I come once a week,” the man offered in an incredibly rushed tone. “Is there a problem?”

Alexander studied the man with a questioning gaze before saying, “Actually, there is. Mycroft is passed out in his bedroom. Can I trust you to watch over him?”

“Is he alright? Why is he passed out?” the man asked in an incredibly worried tone.

“He just got a little drunk, that's all,” Alexander replied. “I have to leave now. Make sure Mycroft gives you a pay raise for making you take care of him drunk.”

“Trust me, I already get paid enough,” the smaller man said and pushed past Alexander. “I'll make sure to move him back to his bedroom and keep him from choking on his own vomit.”

Alexander simply nodded and left.

The man he ran into sighed and walked down the hall to where Mycroft laid. He entered the room with a smile on his face, but it quickly slid off of his face when he saw the man on the bed crying. He gently padded over to the heaped figure and sat down next to him.

The Irish man laid down a gentle hand on Mycroft’s head and brushed his fingers through the elder man’s hair. For the first time in his life, Jim felt regret and he really felt it hard. With a sigh, he laid down beside the man that passed out drunk and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my chapters seem to be short. :(


	6. Coffee

Months flew by in a blur for Mycroft. He drove himself into his work and showed no signs of doing anything else, much to his family and Alexander’s dismay. Mycroft had made it his sole mission to bring down Moriarty and end the mess, which proved to be somewhat impossible, but still he didn't give up hope.

Eventually, the three year anniversary of when Mycroft and ‘Jim’ met rolled around and Mycroft didn't even stop to think about it until the said man showed up at his door step uninvited, which surprised the government power greatly. He had sold every residence that the other man had been to and used many security measures when he had bought his current residence, so the fact that he had still been able to find him was a little more than frightening.

“Mycroft!” Moriarty shouted as the door swung open. When the door started swing shut almost instantly, Moriarty stuck his foot in the door and feigned a hurt expression. “Is that any way to treat a guest? I suppose you don't know how to treat a guest considering how many you get.” The man smiled deviously and Mycroft sneered at him.

“As far as I am concerned, you are not a guest of mine,” the elder man replied before promptly trying to swing the door shut again, but with more force this time.

“Fine,” Moriarty said with a long drawn out vowel and an exasperated sigh. “If you don't let me in,” a red dot appeared on Mycroft’s chest, “my handy friend will persuade you.”

Mycroft’s expression didn't change. He simply let go of the door and walked away, letting the criminal follow him into the house. The said man followed quickly behind with a look of glee on his face.

“I liked the old place better,” Jim said as he followed Mycroft into the kitchen.

“You would,” Mycroft mumbled and snorted. He gathered two cups from a cabinet to pour coffee.

“Do you know why I preferred the old house better?” he asked in a playful tone.

Mycroft added a little milk and sugar to Jim’s and handed it to the man. It grossed Mycroft out; he preferred his black. “Why?” he asked before taking a sip of his.

Jim frowned at his cup of coffee. Mycroft still remembered how he liked his coffee even though it had been two and a half years. “There were so many memories in the old place,” he responded before taking a drink. Moriarty hated that his coffee tasted perfect.

“Precisely why I sold the place and every place you ever set foot in for that matter,” Mycroft replied hotly.

“You seemed to enjoy being bent over the kitchen table. Why not cherish the memory?” Moriarty smiled at the other man turned a delicious shade of red. “It’s not a problem though. We can just make more here.”

Mycroft set his cup down shakily and tried his hardest to not look absolutely turned on by the idea. “I’m afraid to crush your dreams, but that will never happen.”

Moriarty raised an eyebrow and smirked at the other’s blatant refusal. He stood slowly and Mycroft took a step back instinctively, but the other continued his advance until Mycroft was backed against a counter. Deciding to press his luck, the smaller man pressed himself up against the taller man roughly.

“You don’t want to,” Jim shoved his hips forward suggestively, “dance for me?” Mycroft shook his head frantically, trying not to let out a sinful moan. “You really look like you want to,” he bragged and pressed his thumbs against Mycroft’s suit, rubbing his nipples through the fabric.

Mycroft gripped Moriarty’s shoulders tightly and whimpered, “Please stop.” He looked up at Moriarty and the said man was suddenly taken aback. Jim was overtaken with guilt at the tears in Mycroft’s eyes. He was the one causing this poor man so much distress, but he didn't want to stop. He craved the feeling Mycroft’s soft skin. Suddenly, Moriarty was overtaken with want and pressed his mouth against Mycroft’s and kissed him feverishly.

The action made Mycroft want to cry. After two and a half years, his heart still belonged to the criminal and he felt very ashamed of himself. Suddenly, Moriarty pulled away.

“I think that’s enough teasing for today,” Moriarty replied and backed away with a smug smile on his face. Pretending that kissing the older man didn’t affect him was easy enough. Every day of his life, all Moriarty did was pretend. “I’ll catch you again some other time.”

Moriarty turned on his heel and scooped up his coffee before walking away. He took a long drink before walking out of the kitchen and walking out of the house completely. Mycroft sat there in shock for almost an hour trying to comprehend what had just transpired.

When he finally regained his wits, Mycroft realized one very important detail. Moriarty had taken his coffee cup with him. The detail might not seem like a lot, but it certainly meant everything to Mycroft. It meant that Moriarty wasn’t completely done with their game. They would continue their dance and there was nothing Mycroft could do to stop it; that was if he even wanted to stop it.

Mycroft finished his now cold coffee before sitting his cup in the sink and leaving the kitchen. A rational part of his mind told him to sell the house and move away, but the stubborn part of Mycroft’s brain wouldn’t let him to that. Running away would be to admit defeat and this battle was one that Mycroft couldn’t afford to lose. Unknowingly, Mycroft gave up his heart to the battle. He had sacrificed part of himself and he wasn’t going to let that be in vain. Moriarty wasn’t going to win their little dance. It was time for Mycroft to show off his moves.

Little did he know at the time, Mycroft wouldn’t see the man known as Jim Moriarty for four years and it would be yet another year after that until Mycroft saw his coffee cup again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end. Now it will skip to A Study in Pink.


	7. Coffee Date

Mycroft grimaced to himself. All he ever did now-a-days was to himself. It had been over a year since Moriarty had shown up on his doorstep and since then, they hadn't seen each other once. Mycroft supposed it was best that they keep their distance from each other, but that didn't make it an easier. It had been proven to him that over two years wasn't enough to chill the feelings in his heart. What were the odds that only one year could have calmed him down enough?

One thing important to point out is in that year, Moriarty’s planning and scheming surely didn't stop. In fact, one could say it actually got worse. No matter how hard the government fought, the spider web continued to grow and the number of flies caught in it rose at an alarming rate. Even worse, all attacks seemed to be aimed at Alexander and Mycroft directly.

In fact, it was during the aftermath of one of these attacks that Mycroft’s life was changed the most.

“Mycroft!” Alexander shouted and waved the man over to where he was sitting at a small café. The two men had grown quite close since their little drinking fiasco. “I was beginning to think that you wouldn't show up,” Alexander said in a playful tone.

"You know how it is,” Mycroft said and took his coffee from Alexander who had ordered from them both. “Free time is such a rare commodity lately.”

"Get used to it,” Alexander said with a smirk and took a drink of his coffee. “It's the price to pay for moving up in the world.”

“It also doesn't help that we are under almost constant attack from Moriarty,” Mycroft said with barely withheld disdain.

“Your boyfriend really knows how to make my job harder,” Alexander commented and watched Mycroft’s expression carefully. When he kept his face completely neutral, Alexander smiled to himself with pride.

Alexander had made it his mission to mold Mycroft into the best person he could. He had started when he first gave Mycroft the job under him when the younger man was fresh out of college. It was planned that within fifteen years, he would be able to place Mycroft at the top of the government, which was Alexander's current position. He whole heartedly believed that the job was made for Mycroft and one day the man would dominate at it.

The only thing that was stopping Alexander from accomplishing his goal of elevating Mycroft to greatness was Moriarty. When the man had stepped onto the scene, he initially distracted Mycroft from his duties, but at the same time he became much better at them. Mycroft became motivated when he had someone to work for. Then, when all was revealed, he crumbled. Part of Mycroft was slowly dying without the love that he had once known from the man. One day, Mycroft would become completely cold inside and from that point on he would be phenomenal leader, but he would still have nothing that he was fighting for. Alexander feared when that day would come.

“How would you feel about another promotion?” Alexander asked Mycroft as he took another drink of his beverage.

“It’s a little soon and I'm not sure I would be deserving of it,” Mycroft replied with an uneasy look. “I was just promoted two months ago.”

“What of it?” Alexander asked. “Only the best rise in rank quickly or the cheaters, but you're not cheating.”

"One could say that this is a conflict of interest,” he replied and motioned between the two of them.

“How so? Our interests aren't conflicting. I very much think we have the same interests.” Alexander smiled childishly and Mycroft shook his head.

“Smart ass,” Mycroft said and couldn't help but to smile too.

“All joking aside, I handed in your referral this morning to the committee. I'm sure they will accept it. Hell, in five days at the most you could be on the same level as me.”

"I can't imagine ever being on your level,” Mycroft replied. “I-“ he started, but was cut off my a loud noise. He felt wind of something zooming by his face and then Alexander flying backwards. Within three seconds Mycroft had come to a conclusion. Alexander had just been sniped. This was confirmed when Mycroft leaned over the table and saw a hole in Alexander’s head and blood pooling around his head.

Panicking, Mycroft rose suddenly, which happened almost at the same time another loud bang went off. It hit him in the back, which hurt like a son of a bitch, but it had hit him in a place that was protected by his bullet proof vest that he always donned. The rational part of Mycroft’s mind continued to function thankfully.

“Fall on your back,” it whispered to Mycroft. “It will hurt worse, but they won't notice the lack of blood and try shooting again. They're not going to risk coming close either to check that you're dead. No, that would be incredibly risky.”

Mycroft nodded to himself and slowly tipped his weight so he went crashing down onto the cool pavement. He could hear people screaming in the background, but he was careful not to react to them. Shutting his eyes, all he could do was hope that they believed him to be dead.

Thirty seconds he figured was all he would have to wait. Someone of Alexander’s status had a chip within him monitoring his pulse. If it were to ever stop, the government would be in the area faster than any regular police pr ambulance. This way there was less of a complication when it came to treatment and hiding the death from the general public.

The sound of an ambulance came just as Mycroft finished counting to thirty. Bloody bastards are always precisely on time. There was a lot of shouting and soon Mycroft felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher shortly after two fingers had been pressed to his neck. He still didn't move. His body had to be fully concealed before he could allow anyone to see him move. The enemy could still be lurking.

Finally, Mycroft heard the ambulance doors swing shut and his eyes snapped open instantly. He recognized the emergency rescue woman. She was in her late twenties. She was good friends with Alexander, which was like a knife to his gut.

"How are you feeling?” she asked quietly as she helped him take off his suit jacket.

“He's dead,” Mycroft said numbly and his fingers absentmindedly ran repeatedly ran over his vest.

“I know,” she replied and started undoing the straps on the bullet proof vest. “At least it wasn't painful.” She threw the vest into a corner of the ambulance and moved to examine Mycroft’s skin. “You're going to be bruised quite badly.”

"A bruise is a small price to pay to keep my life,” Mycroft joked in a tone which was completely devoid of humor.

“The committee wants to meet with you as soon as we arrive,” the driver of the vehicle shouted into the back of the ambulance. “Congratulations.”

“What do you mean?” Mycroft asked quietly.

“You're going to take over for Alexander,” the driver replied.

“Oh,” Mycroft replied quietly and stared at the floor. Later on, he surmises that was the moment something inside him broke for good.

* * *

“What?!” Moriarty yelled ridiculously loud and all his underlings shook in fear. They had never seen him this mad. Ever. He wasn't even this mad when the assassination of the President of the U.S. had failed even though there had been months of careful planning. “Who had the balls to organize this assassination?!” He slammed his fist down on the table, knocking various things off of it.

“I did sir,” an older man said with confidence. “I saw the opportunity that two government heads were just sitting out in the open and took it. It's really a benefit to us.”

"I thought I made it clear that Alexander Wright and Mycroft Holmes were _mine_?” Moriarty hissed.

“You have no claim to them. They were fair game,” the man replied harshly and in a challenging tone.

Moriarty paused a moment and smiled calmly. Sebastian, who stood beside him sighed. This was going to be bloody.

“You know the rumors about me always say that I'm a fiend for blood?” he asked casually as he strolled around his desk. The man that had ordered the assassination gulped. “Oh, come on. I know you're heard the little whispers about me.” Moriarty reached the front of the man and sneered at him. “Don't worry, they're not true, although I do make some exceptions.” He reached up and stroked the other man’s neck before pulling out a knife and slitting his throat to everyone’s surprise. It wasn't deep enough to kill him fast though. No, he would suffocate on his own blood. As the body tumbled to the ground, Moriarty said “I'm going to eliminate your entire bloodline. Oh! I think I'll hang them in my lobby as a decoration too.”

No one in the room dared speak as Moriarty gleefully watched the life drain out of the man’s face. “Make sure to have his body preserved and hung in our lobby. Also make sure to take out the hitman and the rest of this scum’s family. If you fail to do this, your bodies will be the next to hang in the lobby.”

Moriarty then strolled out of the room. A few of his ‘employees’ flinched in fear as they walked by. It was going to be a tough couple of weeks. Even his normal angry periods sometimes lasted for days. Since this was a whole other level, they feared it might even last a month.

As he walked down a hallway, Moriarty thought to himself, “ _Mycroft Holmes is dead_ ,” and he suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He had never imagined a world that the man would be gone from. Sure, he had made a couple of death threats against Mycroft, but he was never actually serious about them. “ _Did I actually care about him?_ ” Moriarty asked himself, but then shook his head. “ _This will benefit me undoubtedly. Mycroft was too smart. If he had ever risen to power I would have had a serious road block and surely would have killed him then. Better he’s dead now as a low profile hit than trying to kill him when he had tons of security._ ” Moriarty saw every single way that it benefitted him, but that still didn’t stop the pain in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am scum. I am like the scummiest of the scum. xD


	8. Rehab Problems

Mycroft sighed to himself as he pulled into the grand establishment with heavily guarded gates. It had been almost thirteen months since he had thrown his beloved brother into the center to deal with his drug addiction.

After losing his dearest friend Alexander, Mycroft became an extremely shut in person. He almost never left the office and he became obsessed with watching over the younger Holmes. Mycroft had already lost one person to Moriarty; he didn’t think he would be able to cope if he ended up losing his little brother to the man too. That’s why Sherlock needed to sober up. If the occasion ever arose, Sherlock definitely wouldn’t be able to get out of it if he had a needle stuck in his arm.

Sherlock was waiting outside of the building patiently with two guards who were making sure that he wouldn’t run. Mycroft sighed as he caught sight of the trio. This meant that Sherlock had already tried to put up a fight and wouldn’t willingly get into Mycroft’s car.

Mycroft pulled up next to the group and rolled down his window. Sherlock’s face remained impassive at the sight of his brother, but there was an inkling of curiosity behind the icy blue eyes.

“Good morning, Brother,” Mycroft greeted him with faked smile. Sherlock simply glared back and broke free of the guards to get in the car. As he folded himself into the passenger seat, he sent another glare Mycroft’s way. “Not feeling so well, Brother Dearest?”

“Have you contacted mother?” Sherlock asked simply.

Mycroft pursed his lips and replied, “No.”

“It’s been almost three and a half years,” Sherlock said quietly, “she deserves to know you’re still alive.”

“There are many reasons I can’t tell her,” Mycroft told his brother as he pulled out of the establishment that he hoped to never see again in his life.

“Why would that be?” Sherlock replied in a confrontational tone.

“It’s the same reason that you had to be thrown in rehab besides the fact that you’re wasting your mind.” Mycroft sighed. “Do you remember that relationship I was in?”

“You mean the one that ended about seven years ago?” Sherlock asked confusedly. He didn’t think that his brother had entered into any sort of relationship after that one. It was just assumed that the relationship had ended badly and scarred Mycroft for life. Sherlock had decided long ago that it wasn’t best to bring up the subject. Sometimes he did care.

“I guess it has been seven years already,” Mycroft said after a long pause. “Time has gone by fast.” He hated that he was getting sentimental about the passage of time.

“You’re almost,” Sherlock started.

“You don’t need to go there,” Mycroft interrupted him. “Anyways, the person that I was in a relationship with turned out to be a psychopath that murdered my best friend and almost assassinated me.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow curiously at his brother. “You really know how to pick them.”

Mycroft scoffed at his younger brother. “You dare to criticize my choosing? Shall we talk about your past blunders? How about Anna or Michael?”

Sherlock glared at Mycroft before he said, “I get the point. We don’t need to talk about the past mistakes. So, what makes this guy so terrifying of a threat?”

“He is a spider that has spun a very fine web that he manipulates with the utmost precision. This said web reaches over vast amounts of territory. I would say that he controls all crime in London. Well, any crime that has even a remote amount of organization behind it.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “Anyways, he chose me to be his own personal chew toy.”

“Mycroft, I don’t need to hear about your sexual experiences,” Sherlock said with distaste.

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know that,” Mycroft said and rolled his eyes. “Anyways, it has been a year since mother has seen you, so I’m going to leave you at an airport where you’ll board a plane and then be picked up in London.” Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly. “You’ll have to deal with mad mum.”

“What makes you think that I won’t tell her about you?”

“Cause if you do, the chances that mum will die will go up significantly,” Mycroft said grimly. “I don’t think that’s what either of us wants.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sherlock said with a grimace. “What makes you think your spider isn’t watching the house?”

“He probably is and that’s why you’re being picked up by Brian, Dad’s friend from card night. I contacted him discretely so that it can’t be traced back to me.”

“You’ve thought everything out, haven’t you?” Sherlock asked after a moment.

“I have tried. There’s no possible way that he will be able to trace it back to me or even find a little evidence of my existence.”

“Alright, I’ve decided.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow curiously. “Decided what?”

“I won’t tell mum and I’ll keep your secret.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said quietly. “Once I take _him_ down, I’ll come back home.”


End file.
